


Say It With Flowers

by JohnAmendAll



Category: Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 18:08:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3143696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/pseuds/JohnAmendAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On her way to work, Donna comes across an unusual flower stall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say It With Flowers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dbskyler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dbskyler/gifts).



Donna had been at her current job for some weeks — certainly long enough to be familiar with the walk from North Ashfield tube station. The converted railway shed, the light industrial units, the faded Sixties flats, the office blocks, all followed each other in smooth progression. She knew, at least by sight, the girl in the hijab who ran the confectionery stand, and the Big Issue vendor by the pedestrian crossing. 

She rounded the corner by the estate agents' premises, took a couple of paces, and stopped. Her route here took her past the forecourt of a disused petrol station, its entrance blocked to motor vehicles by concrete bollards. What had caught her attention was a small stall, seemingly wedged between two of the bollards. Made of gaily-striped pink and white fabric, and hung with frills, it looked like a refugee from the most upmarket of street fairs. 

Intrigued, Donna approached the stall. She briefly noted the baskets of flowers lying on the canvas counter, then concentrated on the stallholder. Her costume was a good match for the design of the stall: an elaborate dress of Victorian appearance, complete with crinoline and layer upon layer of frills. A matching bonnet struggled to restrain a profusion of auburn curls. The only incongruous element was the woman's face: she was tanned, with an impatient expression. 

"Violets," she said flatly, as if reciting from a script. "Lovely violets. Snowdrops and daisies. Primroses, tuppence a bunch." 

"What's going on?" Donna said. 

"What does it look like?" the woman replied. "I am selling flowers. My _lovely_ flowers," she hastily corrected herself. "Daisies and primroses." 

Donna looked around, assailed by a vague worry that this was all some elaborate practical joke. "This isn't real," she said. "It can't be." 

The flower vendor's startlingly blue eyes met Donna's in what might have been a challenge. "Why not?" 

"Because people don't just dress up like that and sell flowers," Donna said firmly. 

"Yes they do, because I am doing it now." 

"That's not what I meant. They'd do it for a re-enactment or something. With a lot of other nutters." Donna was momentarily distracted by what sounded like a double knock somewhere nearby, but quickly regained the thread of her remarks. "Not on the street by themself on a Wednesday morning. And they'd actually put some effort into the flower girl act. You wouldn't fool _anyone_." 

"And what wisdom have you about the sale of flowers, that you are so sure of this?" the woman asked. 

Donna shook her head. "That's the point. I'm just a temp and I can spot you a mile off." 

The woman shrugged. "Did you think I was trying to _hide?_ This stall is made to be seen. So that everybody may know that here I sell lovely flowers. Bunch of snowdrops. Dearie." 

"You're completely round the twist," Donna said. "And I'm late for work." Without waiting for an answer, she marched off in the direction of her office. 

Once Donna was out of sight and earshot, Leela drew her knife and rapped twice with it on one of the stall's supports, then pulled back the curtain that hung below the counter. Behind it was an open manhole, from which the Doctor's head now came into view. 

"That took a long time," he said. "Were there a lot of people around?" 

Leela shook her head. "Only one. But she asked many questions." 

"I hope you were able to satisfy her." 

"She knows I am not what I seem." 

"That's a pity," the Doctor said, with a grin. "Because you're exactly what you seem. Just a simple, honest flower girl. Have you sold any yet, by the way?" 

"Four bunches," Leela said. "It seems only the men of this city will buy flowers from me. And what of you? Have you found your prey?" 

"I'm afraid that's still a work in progress. Though I really wouldn't call a malfunctioning service robot 'prey.' Far too dramatic." 

"If you have not found it, what are you doing up here? Why are you not following it through the tunnels?" 

"I thought I'd pop back to see how you were getting on. And... is there any tea left in that Thermos?" 

Leela thrust the flask at him. "See for yourself. Do you have any idea when you will capture the robot?" 

"Oh, sooner or later. Why? You don't look particularly short of stock." 

"I would prefer that we finish before the red-haired one returns. Otherwise she will ask more questions." 

The Doctor made no verbal reply, as he was concentrating on drinking his tea, but he managed a so-what gesture. 

"I may have to kill her," Leela added. "You would not approve." 

"I most certainly would not," the Doctor said. He closed the Thermos, and started to climb back down the ladder. "Right, then. Nose to the grindstone. Here, kitty, kitty, kitty..." 

Left to her own devices once more, Leela folded her arms and glared at her merchandise. 

"Flowers," she said, resignedly. "Lovely flowers."


End file.
